Late Manhattan Nights
by AriandEzra
Summary: A short Lucian drabble. If you don't like the para, please don't read.


**I was super bored, hence this drabble. Be lovelies and leave me some reviews? **

**DISCLAIMER: I am in no way associated with Lucy or Ian. This story is written for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others. It is purely fiction. If you don't like the pairing, please don't read. **

* * *

Its quiet –too quiet for Lucy's liking. Even with the sound of the television, the small rental apartment in downtown Manhattan feels eerie and most certainly _not_ like home. Her tiny feet are propped up on the coffee table in front of her, though they're swollen and stuffed into unicorn slippers. With a stomach equally as swollen, it's clear she doesn't have an exact range of movement. Lucy's due date is pushing full steam ahead. And while she should be happy about it, she isn't. She's afraid her husband won't be home to see her to the hospital and help rear their baby into the world.

As Lucy watches a marathon binge of _Law and Order: SVU_, her husband is off shooting somewhere by the Brooklyn Bridge. Ian's currently in an indie movie where he plays a baseball player on the verge of losing his family to his career. Lucy's supportive of him – she always is, but there's not a single minute during the day where she doesn't wish he was by her side instead of the woman who plays his wife on film.

Needless to say, she's jealous. While Ian constantly defends that she's still the single most gorgeous woman on the Earth, Lucy feels the complete opposite. She's put on weight from the baby, although her frame is still meager, and she eats almost everything in sight. Her mood swings have become more and more unpredictable as her due date approaches. Instead of wandering the city streets like she did when the movie was in pre-production, Lucy's confined to the apartment. Ian is too afraid to let her go out and have her water break in the middle of the street.

She is in perpetual reminder that Ian's love interest on camera is about 5'6, a redhead, and only has to wear a prosthetic pregnancy belly. The girl's come over for dinner once or twice in the past and then she and Ian would retire to the living room to brush up on lines while Lucy sat by in the kitchen, aimlessly doing her nails or updating Twitter on her iPad. As her stomach began to grow, the longer Ian's hours became.

Which leaves Lucy to where she is currently; sitting on their brown plush couch and watching lawyers negate a scandal on the television screen. The clock ticks on, pushing past midnight. She's trying her best to keep her eyes open, just waiting to see Ian walk through the apartment door. But every five seconds, they flutter to a close, focus and vision going in and out. Lucy can barely hear the lawyers yell at one another now. Sleep is overtaking her heavily pregnant body.

This is how it always, how it's always going to be. When the baby comes, it'll be sleepless nights as a partially single parent. Of course, she's being irrational, but she's allowed to be when left alone all the time in a small apartment while her husband goes and plays movie star. Quite frankly, it sucks.

"Luc?" The door to the apartment opens slightly, revealing the slightest crack of light that illuminates a portion of the apartment. Lucy had all the lights out, wanting to create a certain ambiance. She thought that if the lights were out, she wouldn't notice how lonely it was.

Ian's stupidly handsome face pokes its way through the door and then his whole baseball toned body steps inside. Lucy's once sleepy eyes spring open at the sight of her husband crossing the threshold. She wants to spring herself into his arms, but she's also mad at him. The anger has been growing daily along with the raging hormones that dominate her mind. Of course, with her discomfort and swollen belly, it's not an easy task to push herself up from the couch. Still, the ever persistent Lucy tries.

"Baby, hold on," Ian chides, walking quickly towards her before she can set up on her feet. He places a hand behind her back and helps to lower her back down. Say what you will, but Ian's love for Lucy is unquestionable. It rings true from one end of the city to the other and beyond.

"You'll hurt yourself. And her." Ian lays a hand gently on her stomach, a prideful smile washing onto his otherwise ragged looking face. He'd wanted to wait and be surprised about the gender of their child, but Lucy had been too impatient. They'd found out they'd be having a girl and couldn't have been happier. Well, Lucy could've been happier right now, but that had nothing to do with their baby being a girl.

She grimaces and places her hands over her chest. They rest just on her bump. It's impossible for Ian to take her seriously in this moment; she looks too adorable with her jutted out lip and pregnant belly. But Lucy means absolute business.

"Oh, what do you care?"

He's taken aback. Ian blinks wildly for a moment, trying to decipher what his wife means by her statement. Of course he cared. He always cared. There wasn't a person on the Earth that he cared more for. When Lucy was sick, he went out and got Matzo Ball soup. When she was upset, he went to the nearest Trader Joes and bought a jar of cookie butter for them to split with two spoons.

"What do you mean? Of course I care."

"No you don't." Lucy shakes her head, bottom lip trembling. Whether it was the late hour or the hormones, she's on the verge of tears. The episode of _SVU_ has changed; the lawyers won their case, but Lucy hasn't won hers yet. "If you cared, I wouldn't be home alone all the time. I wouldn't be struggling to stay awake until midnight just to see you walk through the door. And I wouldn't be worrying that my water will break and you'll be nowhere in sight when I give birth."

Finally, an onslaught of well concealed tears stream down Lucy's cheeks. A pile of guilt settles inside Ian's stomach. He hadn't realized how much taking this role would affect her. Actually, at first he decided to swear off acting and take a small leave just as Lucy was doing from both her music and her acting. But she'd persisted, begging him to take the role. Lucy was afraid he'd resent her in the future for making him give up a fantastic part and be directed by one of the indie film industry's finest.

Taking a gentle hand, he begins to dry her tears. Ian can't stand to see her cry; it's his least favorite sight in the world, especially when the tears being shed are because of him. "You know that's not true."

"Is she a better wife than me?"

"_What?_"

"Is Little Miss Perfect a better wife than me? She's not hormonal and doesn't snap at you like this. She doesn't make you run out at one in the morning to grab McDonalds and she's not big and fat like I am."

"Oh, Goose," Ian sighs, cupping her chin in his hand. "She can't even compare to you."

Now it's Lucy's turn to look at him with a confused glance. She tilts her head to the side, questioning Ian's words with a simple expression in her eyes.

"For starters, yes I have to pretend to love her, but that love I have to act doesn't begin to match up for what I feel for you. I like your hormones. I like when you snap at me. And I'm more than glad to run out at one in the morning to get you greasy French fries and a chocolate milk shake to satisfy you and that one in there," he says, pointing to Lucy's stomach. "You're not big and fat; you're glowing. You're beautiful, even more than possible, because you're carrying our little girl. And that's something no co-star can hold over you."

Her expression softens and her arms wrap around Ian's neck. "I knew I loved you for a reason," she mumbles, her anger having evaporated within seconds.

And with the hum of a brand new episode of _Law and Order: SVU_ humming in the background of the dark apartment, Ian and Lucy find a way to reaffirm their love on the soft, well loved brown couch. Perhaps long working hours wasn't such a bad things after all.


End file.
